


Cellmates in Hell: Prison Break!

by V6ilill



Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: (nonexistent), Bigotry & Prejudice, Crack, Dark Comedy, Gallows Humor, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hypocritical humor, Stupidity, Teamwork, Tragedy/Comedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V6ilill/pseuds/V6ilill
Summary: A thief, a cultist, a hypocrite, a deserter, a monster in human skin and a paragon of kindness and morality are sacrificed to Molag Bal. He makes the mistake of locking them in one cell, where they combine their Protagonist Powers to attempt an escape.Unfortunately, the would-be saviors of the world lack even a single braincell to share between them. Can these utterly despicable (in)human beings (and one ray of sunshine who can do no wrong) save their own asses from eternal torment, or will they once again be doomed by their flaws and marked lack of common sense?
Relationships: Lyris Titanborn & Vestige, six-vestige disaster pileup
Series: With Saviors Like These, Who Needs Salvation? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871929
Kudos: 1





	Cellmates in Hell: Prison Break!

“Where the hell are we?” Hadrin sat up, yawning and rolling their shoulders “Why are the walls made of skulls?”

“We’re in Coldharbor,” Aureliana informed them matter-of-factly “The skulls you see are damned souls such as yourself. They might still be conscious, likely in eternal pain even if not.”

“How are we not dead yet?” Vindriniel piped up “Last I remember, I was-”

“We are,” the teenager snapped “Our souls belong to Molag Bal and we will slave here for all eternity, ‘how are we not dead yet?’. And your mother is a whore, peasant!”

“Oh no!” Gruzha squeaked “I told mom I was gonna help her move the crates tonight! Gods, I’m never gonna see her again!”

“What?! How dare you insult my noble bloodline! I demand a duel to settle this dispute!” Vindriniel shouted, staggering upright.

“Your bloodline is as noble as a dead goat,” Aureliana retorted “I would never lower myself as to duel you.”

“You’re just scared of his gleaming, oily hands,” Hadrin piped up “that could so easily wrap around your neck and choke the life from you, slowly, muscles bulging and straining . . .”

“Your words, not mine,” Aureliana rolled her eyes.

“He’s not that handsome,” Ku’rib-Andiit piped up “Unlike this one!”

“Filthy sinners,” Arin sighed, but glanced at Vindriniel’s bicep just in case.

“My family line stretches into the fog of time, craven human,” Vindriniel declared “Nothing like whatever criminals you descend from.”

“Funny how I’ve never heard of yours,” Aureliana raised an eyebrow.

“If you were not dead already, horrid vampire, I’d put you in the dirt myself,” Vindriniel grumbled.

“I’d like to see you try,” Aureliana replied.

“Vampire?” Arin repeated.

Aureliana sighed, watching her five cellmates slowly move away, each searching for a weapon. Funny how eternal torment didn’t seem so far any different from her usual fare.

“Here I thought the rumors wouldn’t follow me in death.” she commented sourly.

“Sucks to be you, then,” Hadrin spread their hands. Aureliana facepalmed.

Then the dremora came, put the six bastards in chains and sent them away to work. The recently-deceased dug up rock (or flailed around under their masters’ whips) for no apparent purpose, but then again, eternal torment was eternal torment. It didn’t have to make sense if it hurt enough.

While they were all chained up together, Gruzha attempted to chat up the other prisoners. Most of them were pale and empty-eyed, shambling like puppets and looking like drowned corpses. They only moaned in agony and screamed in pain, utterly oblivious to anything the orc was trying to tell them.

But some, recent arrivals yet unbroken from the torture, or particularly brave and tenacious mortals, told Gruzha tales of their lives and deaths. They reminisced over flowers they would never see, birdsong they would never hear and family whose survival they could never be sure of. One woman, with milky white eyes and gaunt, sagging skin, whispered to Gruzha hushed rumors about a living warrior, searching for something within this plane of eternal torment.

Gruzha faithfully relayed everything to her new cellmates. Why, she felt a deep bond of kinship with them already! They were so cool! And they never lost hope at all!

Well, except for the time Vindriniel thought to pray, but Hadrin said it was pointless now. And the time Ku’rib punched at a daedra, the aftermath of which (for Ku’rib, at least) was best left unmentioned. And also the time Arin wanted to go look for their friend Nerilla, who had been tortured to death by Mannimarco years earlier, and was probably also in Coldharbor. And also also when Aureliana got whipped more than usual, and began crying for her mother, the mere mention of whom making Vindriniel, Arin and Ku’rib spit on the ground in disgust. Gruzha haid joined them too, but she apologized to Aureliana later, so everything was fine, even if Aureliana had told her she hoped Gruzha’s parents would be butchered with an ax.

It was one dark and dreary day, like all other days at this place, that Gruzha shared her plans for an escape.

“All we gotta do is find this lady and help her out, and she might tell us how to leave! Dead or alive,” the orc recounted, feeling flush. Her bones ached and she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit, what with the floor clawing her ankles into ribbons akin to bloody chicken wings.

“Yeah, right,” Aureliana groaned “Like anyone would want your help. Buckle down and enjoy the afterlife, dumbass.”

“Silence, vampire! Your poisoned words hold no sway over my pure soul!” Vindriniel declared, rising shakily to his feet “We shall endeavor to find this mortal and aid them to the best of our abilities!”

“Well, if you want yourself and all of us to get mutilated, then fine! Not like I care whether my finges remain attached to my palms,” Aureliana snarled.

Vindriniel scoffed “Brave warriors, to me! Though I suspect none of you are warriors, much less brave. Oh, the degradation . . .”

“You don’t say,” Hadrin smirked.

“None of your concern, thief,” the altmer snapped.

Aureliana rolled her eyes and threw a skull from the wall at Vindriniel. The skull just so happened to be on fire as well. The elf was less than pleased over being burned, even though he barely got charred in Gruzha’s opinion.

“With every breath you take your presence profanes me further!” the altmer shouted “I shall no longer suffer your disgusting presence in my prison cell, freak, and will-”

“Hold your harpies, didn’t you see what she did?” Arin whispered tensely “Magic! In Coldharbor! Without a soul!”

“. . . I guess I was feeling particularly incensed,” Aureliana blinked “Anyway, you shouldn’t have doubted my power in the first place.”

“Guys, guys, look, the other guard left, let’s escape now!” Gruzha pointed excitedly.

“Onwards, to glory!” Vindriniel threw himself at the bars, giant glowing toothpick in hand. The dremora smacked him through the opening, sending the elf tumbling down onto the floor.

Ku’rib called down a lighting bolt to roast the jailer and Hadrin pocketed the keys. The other four prisoners filed out.

“If it were up to this one, he would gut you right now,” Ku’rib told Aureliana as she passed him by “But he’ll stay his claws for now, because that which is dead may not be die again.”

“Oh so you want to kill me? Gee, where have I heard that one before?” she snorted with disapproval, utterly unimpressed by the enormous muscular cat-man almost twice her height looming over her.

Gruzha blinked. What did Ku’rib have against such a nice spirited young woman? The orc couldn’t think of any possible reason.

“We gotta free the others!” Gruzha realized, looking at the rows of narrow prison cells “They deserve a chance at freedom too!”

“Woo! Free cannon fodder!” Hadrin was enthusiastically on board “I hope they prove a good distraction for the daedra.”

“You heartless monster,” Arin shook their head, but did not protest releasing the others.

The gaunt and empty-eyed prisoners shambled along, chattering to themselves. One tried to lift the dremora’s ax, another lit a fire in her palm. Gruzha thought to offer them a rousing speech, but she hadn’t practiced beforehand. And anyway, her mission was far more important!

The six cellmates (former cellmates now, take that, Molag Bal!) crept down the hallway, then ganked up on a solitary guard. Hadrin stabbed him from behind with a dagger that totally appeared out of thin air, Gruzha saw that happen-! Vindriniel poked the daedra with his glowing stick and Ku’rib electrocuted the enemy along with the poor elf.

“Ignorant, savage furball!” Vindriniel coughed, his long hair and pointy beard standing on ends “Don’t you know how to aim?!”

“Don’t you know how not to stand in the way?” Ku’rib asked genially “Or must Ku’rib-andiit teach you this fine art?”

“Deflect blame all you want, but it was YOU who foolishly shot lightning into my back!” Vindriniel declared “And it is YOU who must learn how to aim!”

“Mate, you literally stepped in front of his spell,” Hadrin piped in.

“A good warrior must be aware of what goes behind him,” Arin added.

“Funny how I don’t see any warriors here,” Aureliana snorted.

“Of course you don’t,” Hadrin snorted “You didn’t see the cultist reaching for his staff either. Maybe if you saw a bit more, you’d still be alive.”

“Do not listen to that vampire!” Vindriniel pointed his glowstick accusingly.

“This one finds himself in agreement,” Ku’rib nodded.

“Vampire?! You disgusting peasants, I have a skin condition!” Aureliana snarled “You’re lucky that I, unlike my mother, enjoy neither flaying nor dismemberment.”

Arin ground their teeth.

“Too bad she’s not here and you’re useless without her,” Ku’rib remarked, baring his fangs.

“I hope your mother suffers here for all eternity,” Vindriniel spat.

“That would be for the best,” Hadrin nodded along.

“Oh you poor savages,” Aureliana shook her head in dismay “And I am not useless, plebeians! Laugh and gloat over my pain all you like, but soon my patience shall reach an end and I will-”

Ku’rib decked her in the nose, ending her grandiose speech before it even began. That was a little sad, Gruzha was sure Aureliana wanted say something inspiring.

Then the wannabe heroes found two daedra watching them, seemingly engaged in lively conversation.

“Huh,” said Arin “Why aren’t they attacking?”

Ku’rib rotated his ears forwards “This one thinks they are betting on when we will end up fighting each other.”

“Well, I inted to give them no such satisfaction!” Vindriniel roared and charged the two. One of the daedra easily swatted him away with a swing of his warhammer like he was nothing more than a particularly hairy fly.

Ku’rib sighed and shifted into a fighting stance, lightning dancing on his fingertips. Gruzha looked around and picked up a bow and quiver off a fallen daedra. Hadrin leapt at the warhammer-wielder, knife in hand. They proved a good distraction, spinning around the daedra, stabbing him through every chink of his armor.

The second daedra advanced, ramming into Ku’rib just as the enormous black khajiit slung sparks at him. As the two (rather tall) warriors wrestled, Arin moved in to lash the daedra with a flaming length of whip. Unlike Vindriniel, they knew how to aim.

Sensing that Ku’rib and Arin had their opponent well in hand, Gruzha drew her bow and turned to the second daedra, still spinning in place, trying to land a hit on Hadrin. Gruzha aimed like she’d been taught and loosed the arrow . . .

. . . hitting Hadrin in the shoulder just as they struck their blade through the daedra’s eyesocket.

“Oof,” said Hadrin, ragdolling to the floor “See, this is why I’m a loner by nature.”

“That was uncalled for,” Arin noted, putting their boot on the burned remains of the daedra. They seemed oddly pleased with themself.

“Oops,” Gruzha put the bow behind her back “Sorry, Hadrin.”

“Eh, no bother,” they shrugged, arrow bobbing up and down with their shoulder.

“Fear not, for I shall heal you!” Vindriniel declared, crawling out of whatever corner he’d fallen in “Despite the fact that you, thief, are clearly unworthy of my attention.”

“You seemed so intelligent whenever you kept your mouth shut,” Hadrin smiled as Vindriniel removed the arrow and sealed the wound.

“Disgusting lesser being,” the altmer sighed, shaking his head in disgust.

“Lesser?” Ku’rib looked at Hadrin with mild curiosity “True, the elf is quite little.”

“Compared to you, anyway,” the dunmer stretched “Let’s go, gang. Anyone see the exit?”

“Over there,” Aureliana pointed, then sneezed. A glob of blood sprayed from her now-misshapen nose. “Ugh. Insolent fools.”

Arin, Vindriniel, Hadrin and Ku’rib-andiit immediately took off. Seeing as nobody really wanted to put up with Aureliana, Gruzha picked her up by the scruff and slung her over her shoulders. The imperial was very light, no more cumbersome than a few sacks of grain.

Eventually, and after vanquishing a good deal more daedra, the six prisoners made their way into a clearing with some kind of river flowing through it. Gruzha tested the flow and found that there was no water in sight, just this flowing, bright blue gelationous . . . something. Vindriniel slipped in the liquid and ended up covered in the stuff. His loud cursing alerted the local fauna (composed mostly of insane soul-shriven, clannfears and fire-lobbing dremora), which proceeded to dogpile the six escapees.

Vindriniel heroically threw himself in front of the group, and was heroically rewarded with a fireball to the face. At the sight of fire, Aureliana slipped off Gruzha’s back and stumbled backwards, shrieking like a dog caught in a bear trap. Gruzha paid her no mind and aimed her bow at the dremora. While Ku’rib was electrocuting the soul shriven and Arin was keeping the clannfears away with their fiery whip, Gruzha shot an arrow at the dremora, hitting him right in the eye. He dropped his staff, swaying slightly, giving Hadrin the opportunity to slit his throat. They stepped forwards and a soul-shriven leapt onto their back, biting and strangling.

A tall woman rounded the corner and slammed her ax into the fiend, dislodging it and sending Hadrin tumbling to the ground. She turned to a clannfear trying to gnaw on Vindriniel’s face and swung the ax right into its spine. It whined and fell onto its side. Gruzha turned to Arin, who was getting swarmed by the soul-shriven from every direction and aimed. Most of them took one arrow to fell, and with the stranger and her ax on their side, the enemies really went down quickly.

After the last of the monsters were driven off, Gruzha helped Vindriniel get up and attempted to heal his wounds, though without any real plants that proved impossible. The newcomer dusted herself off, Hadrin pocketed a clannfear carapace and Arin adjusted whatever remained of their clothes. That was quite pointless in Gruzha’s opinion, since they wasn’t hot at all, and as such had nothing to hide. Ku’rib, of course, flexed his impressive muscles in the direction of the newcomer.

“. . . never thought I’d see anyone taller than myself,” she frowned in Ku’rib’s general direction “I’m Lyris and you people are . . .?”

“This one is Ku’rib-andiit. He is very flattered to be considered tall,” the khajiit bowed with all the false modesty he could muster.

“Vindriniel, traveling templar, at your service,” the altmer nodded his head downwards. His pride probably didn’t allow him to bend his neck any further.

“I’m Gruzha,” the orc announced.

“Arin the Blaze,” the fire-wielding knight pronounced, folding their whip.

“Wow, how clever,” Hadrin snorted “My name is also very clever: Hadrin Half-Ear. Yes, I really had half of each ear cleaved off. Would you be interested in a fresh daedric carapace? It’s locally-caught, pristinely clean and sustainably hunted - all for the measly price of getting me out of eternal suffering!”

“I can help you with that,” Lyris nodded “But keep the carcass.”

Then her eyes found Aureliana, who sat staring at the corpses. “Who’s that?”

The girl tore her eyes from the charred remains. “Aureliana Tharn,” she said quietly, her gaze vacantly roaming the floor.

“Who?” Lyris frowned.

“Edgelord Ellie,” Hadrin elaborated “Don’t mind her, she’s just a tagalong.”

“Edgel- why, you ignorant little swine!” that made the imperial stand up, hideous face contorting in anger “I’ll have you know-”

Ku’rib decked her again and she rolled back onto the floor, where was her place “She’s much more pleasant when quiet,” he explained.

“That’s a little excessive - she looks quite frail,” Lyris noted.

“Excessive? We should leave that creature to rot!” Vindriniel declared.

Gruzha, feeling a stab of worry, picked Aureliana up and slung her back over her shoulders. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be in much danger of choking on her own blood, though after Gruzha’s past experience with injuries, she wasn’t willing to risk it.

“This one quite agrees,” Ku’rib piped up “If others are unwilling, this one can wring her neck himself, yes?”

Hadrin shrugged. Arin had the decency to look conflicted.

“How old are you anyway, Ellie?” Lyris narrowed her eyes.

Aureliana groaned. Gruzha shook her and repeated the question.

“Fifteen,” she coughed “My birthday is in Second Seed. What’s it matter? I’m not too young for anything you might wanna forbid me! And for the last time, my name is Aureliana, inbred little sleaze!”

“Little? Speak for yourself,” Lyris shook her head.

“Inbred? Speak for yourself!” Hadrin chuckled into their hand “All right, onto the more relevant stuff: where’s the exit?”

“I’m searching for a man. He’s a prisoner here, known as the Prophet,” the warrior explained “He’ll know how to get us all out.”

“We’ll aid you,” Arin promised.

“As Auri-el is my witness, so I shall raise my spear to your cause!” declared Vindriniel, raising his spear of light.

Then he tripped on a loose rock and went flying.

“Can’t we all go back the way you came?” Hadrin asked of the only living person in the room.

“It was a one-way portal,” Lyris elaborated “And I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t see any great wizards here.”

“How convenient,” said Ku’rib.

“So this Prophet guy - gee, how ominous - knows his portals, then?” Hadrin raised both eyebrows.

“And not only,” Lyris promised “Now, let’s not dawdle.”

“Yeah! We’ll show that motherfucker Bal how good his prison is!” Hadrin fistbumped the air above their head.

FOOLISH MORTAL said Molag Bal from all directions at once YOU WILL KNOW THE PRICE OF DEFIANCE

And closed the door where Lyris came from.

“Thanks, Hadrin,” said Arin.

“No problem, mate!” Hadrin patted them on the shoulder “Who was that screaming freak, by the way?”

“That was Molag Bal, and he just cut off our avenue of escape,” Lyris explained “We’ll need to find another way.”

“Another way? Ha! As if some dingy tin door will stop a true warrior!” Vindriniel declared, throwing himself shoulder-first at the closed gate “Watch as I- ow!”

Ku’rib watched Vindriniel break his shoulder against the metal door, shaking his head. “Come along now,” he called the elf “These ones are going the other way.”

“Impatient louts,” Vindriniel shook his head in disgust, but followed the crowd, clearly being too great of a warrior to strike out on his own.

The six soulless sacrifices and one living nord made a few laps around the cellblock, before finding a convenient sewer entrance. Well, Gruzha thought it was a sewer. She wasn’t exactly a city native.

In the sewers - tunnels, caves, whatever - the six adventurers and one undead teenager getting dragged along by Gruzha found skeevers, daedra both bipedal and with more legs, soul-shriven and bear traps.

“Why are there bear traps here?” wondered Hadrin after stepping into one “Surely the great Molag Bal, Prince of torment and domination, would devise better ways to defend his realm?”

“The bear traps are here because they hurt when you step on them,” Aureliana explained before Ku’rib could deck her again “The fact that you are unable to feel pain or see things right in front of you doesn’t make them any less effective.”

Hadrin glanced down at the dragging sack of meat they once called a foot. “You’ve got a point.”

Ku’rib took the opportunity to silence Aureliana again. However, he missed, hitting Gruzha instead. The orc was very forgiving of his mistake, but the skeever such an aggression against a warden had summoned was less so. Thus, the party was greatly delayed by their wizard being mauled by a rat, allowing Molag Bal to send more minions after them, as well as close off some side passages.

“Now that this misunderstanding has been solved . . .” Ku’rib began after shaking off the vermin “. . . why have these ones stopped?”

Arin motioned to the five dremora swordsmen blocking the way.

“Ah,” the khajiit tried to sound intelligent “Eh, uh. This one believes you can solve the problem without his aid.”

That was the cue for everyone to make excuses.

Arin was first “I’m not that good of a warrior.”

“I’m scavenging,” Hadrin made a bold claim “Daedra husks sell well, you know. Can’t pass up good business.”

Vindriniel groaned on the ground from injuries to his torso and pride.

“I am a princess, not some stabby-stabby peasant!” Aureliana’s shrill voice echoed off the walls “This is already beneath my dignity!”

“It’s kinda hard to shoot a bow while carrying someone,” Gruzha sheepishly admitted to her strange fondness for the imperial - why else would she refuse to put her down against all common sense?

“I and Arin can’t account for all these bastards while dispatching foes,” Lyris explained “Some - looking at you, elf - require constant supervision.”

“Which elf are you talking about?” Hadrin inquired pointedly. Vindriniel attempted to make a menacing frown.

“Both,” the woman clarified.

“Let these ones move on,” said Ku’rib and called down a bolt of lightning to roast a dremora swordsman alive.

The others moved closer, brandishing obsidian-black blades. Hadrin jumped in front of them, twirling a jagged dagger. While the four swordsmen were distracted by the ostentatious display of fake force, Arin lashed the slowest with their whip, drawing his attention. The enemy swung a two-handed blade at the warrior who ducked at the last second, the strike only splitting their shoe. While Arin struggled to get to their feet and the demon readied another, this time decisive, swing, Lyris smashed her ax into the creature’s head, rendering him a bloody heap on the ground.

At the same time, Hadrin was kiting the three dremora on a merry chase around the room. Ku’rib sniped the trio with lightning, Vindriniel ran after them, trying in vain to get at least one turn to savage him instead and Gruzha pelted everyone in front of her with arrows. Unfortunately, Hadrin, despite not feeling it, still had a rather serious leg injury, and wasn’t as fast as they liked to imagine themself to be. Very soon, they got dogpiled by three dremora, all very pissed after being lead on, just like vengeful exes. And just like vengeful exes, they proceeded to very thoroughly trash Hadrin with sharp cutlery. They survived only by the intervention of Gruzha, who now had an excellent opportunity to shoot all three in the back. Lyris double-tapped them with her ax and Vindriniel was, very saltily, forced to use his healing talents instead of the magic glowing toothpick.

The seven beaten-up wanderers eventually found a way out of the tunnels through an uncomfortably small sewer grate. They filed out into a clearing filled with the blue not-water popular in Coldharbor. There, Lyris lead them to a little campfire surrounded by dancing soul-shriven. That must’ve been the “rave” Gruzha heard the older generation complain about, which was apparently a big problem in cities. Strangely, there was no sign of the orgies supposedly commencing on such a momentous event. The orc glanced at Aureliana, hoping for answers, but the imperial was happily unconscious, having again had an altercation with Ku’rib’s fist.

While Lyris conversed with her old friend Cadwell over the sound of his lute, the company of six scattered all over the clearing. Hadrin tried in vain to sell some fell hide and daedra husks to the dancing soul-shriven, who were thoroughly uninterested. Vindriniel, feeling greatly wounded by the fact that he wasn’t currently defending the innocent or slaying monsters, found a clannfear on which to vent his deep personal issues. Ku’rib tried to drink the not-water. Predictably, he did not succeed. Arin, noticing the terrible fate about to befall Vindriniel at the jaws of the clannfear, hastily abandoned their post at Lyris’s side to save the hapless elf. Gruzha set her cargo down and joined in the dancing, trusting that “raving”, as the elders called it, wasn’t an unforgivable sin against the Divines. Aureliana woke up and suffered.

After having an enlightening chat and finding a way to reach the Prophet, Lyris began the lengthy task of gathering the escaped prisoners.

“Stop dancing, we need to head out,” she shook Gruzha by the shoulder.

“Oh, is-is this what sin feels like?” the orc blushed green “I didn’t expect it to be so nice . . .”

“You know nothing of sin, idiot! It’s just bad music!” Aureliana decried, furiously poking at her black eye “Also, you’re a terrible dancer. Your ancestors are weeping at the sight.”

“Aww . . .” said Gruzha, stopping in mid-pivot.

Lyris left her to mope and went to corrall the others. She found Hadrin getting mauled by an unfriendly customer, and resolved the business deal with the business end of her ax.

“Oh come on! I was just about to sell this nice mister some hide scraps!” Hadrin complained, wrapping a homemade bandage around their upper arm.

“Of course,” Lyris rolled her eyes “We have to move out, I know how to reach the Prophet.”

“Really?” Hadrin’s demeanor suddenly did a 180 “Lead on!”

Ku’rib was next to the river, retching. Because he was dead and therefore didn’t need to eat, he didn’t vomit up anything substantial.

“Come along when you’re finished,” Lyris recommended and broke out into a jog: Vindriniel was trying to head into a ruin and Arin was having trouble restraining him.

“What’s up with you, ‘great warrior’? The fact that you’re dead doesn’t make you immortal!” she took the altmer by the scruff and shook him like a dishrag. For all his bravado he was rather light.

“I must destroy all evil that I see!” Vindriniel countered “To see evil is to be evil!”

“That’s bullshit,” Lyris set him down “Let’s go and rescue the Prophet for real now.”

“Another quest awaits me!” Vindriniel declared, thrusting his glowing walking stick into the air “For justice! For truth!”

Arin sighed, putting a hand to their forehead.

“Well, at least you’re sane,” Lyris waved them along.

". . . I am?" Arin stared at their hand as if it belong to another "Since when?!"

The group of seven assembled once more and Lyris told her plan: they would split up and murder two sentinels that were essentially Molag Bal’s eyes in Coldharbor. Then they could enter the Prophet’s cell and get the fuck out without much resistance.

For some reason, nobody wanted to go with Gruzha and Aureliana.

“Oh for gods’ sakes, why are you four warriors terrified of a teenager?” Lyris groaned “Fine, I’ll come along with them.”

“She’s annoying,” Hadrin supplied with a shrug.

“You might not have hear the rumors,” Arin began carefully “But they paint a rather dire picture.”

“This one thinks to kill her now, before a monster is unleashed back upon Tamriel,” Ku’rib flexed his bicep. For a wizard, he sure had abs.

“I will not sully my honor with the presence of a vampire!” Vindriniel shouted.

“I am not a vampire!” Aureliana shouted back “I HAVE A SKIN CONDITION, YOU FERMENTED BALLSACK!”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Hadrin beckoned their comrades “I for one am extremely interested in leaving as quickly as possible.”

Everyone agreed, except for Vindriniel, but his opinion wasn’t worth shit. The adventurers parted ways. Lyris made short work of the globular sentinel while Gruzha distracted the dremora surrounding the installation with a rain of annoying arrows. Aureliana was unhelpful, as always.

On the other side of the pond, while Arin and Ku’rib certainly put up a good fight, disabling all the guards and the sentry, Vindriniel saw a dremora archer on the horizon and gave chase, thus sending their victory straight down the drain. The damage Hadrin could deal was mitigated by their multitude of injuries. Despite being entirely painless, the arrows protruding from their knees did hamper mobility somewhat.

The adventurers reconvened in front of a gate, Vindriniel being brought along quite forcefully. Strangely enough, nobody wanted to smash his head in, unlike the situation with Aureliana. Maybe his glowstick was very useful? Either way, the Prophet was now well within reach. Well, nearby, at least. The guy was suspended in a floating torture rhombus above a chasm of likely-infinite depth.

“Molag Bal sure likes his rhombuses,” Hadrin remarked, bringing up unpleasant memories of dolmens.

“What can I say? They’re very sharp and pointy,” Aureliana shrugged “I prefer triangles, but to each their own . . .”

“Do not give this one more reason to put what he learned in the Worm Cult to good use,” Ku’rib proved his menace and bravado by threatening a fifteen-year-old with death. Truly, a terrifying foe to behold.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Vindriniel nodded along “Die, necromancer!”

“He literally just told you he was a cultist. In a cult of necromancy. How are Ellie’s flaming skulls worse than that?” Lyris sighed, examining the surroundings “Ku’rib, maybe you shouldn’t be the murderer calling the killer evil.”

“How dare you! I am not Ellie!” Aureliana shouted.

“Projecting much, cat?” Hadrin raised their eyebrows.

“Perhaps most of us actually deserved to be in that cell.” Arin muttered

“You can head back, if you like,” Aureliana suggested lightly.

Arin did an eyeroll of profound suffering.

“Guys, guys, how do we get the Prophet out?” Gruzha piped up “I was thinking maybe these soul gems could-”

“They’re not even whole anymore,” Lyris brushed her off. She inspected the back of the room, then returned to the floating cell. “It needs a sacrifice - an exchange. I’ll go inside it instead of the Prophet. I have to.”

“How typical of Molag Bal to force a sadistic choice,” Hadrin observed.

“I would gladly lay down my life for the greater good!” Vindriniel declared dramatically, long hair swaying in the wind. How wind could be blowing through a cavern was anyone’s guess.

“You have nothing Molag Bal doesn’t already own,” Lyris held up a hand “but I can still offer my soul.”

“It has been theorized that owning a soul amplifies the suffering inflicted upon an individual in this realm,” Aureliana noted “Which is why we are barely fazed by the punishment we have undergone here.”

“You sure cried like a bitch when the big bad dremora hit you,” Hadrin stated “We’re just fine because we’re not pussies.”

“You are the only whore here,” Aureliana remarked.

“Before you begin another massive argument, let me remind you that all six of you are LITERALLY DEAD and the only person who knows what to do is currently locked in the cage above us,” Lyris tried to defuse the situation. Predictably, she did it by shouting really loud. “I need two volunteers to align the pinions over there and there. That will commence the exchange, and YOU BETTER listen to the Prophet after I’m gone. Is that clear?”

“I will do my best,” Arin bowed and hesitantly made their way to the left pinion.

“I-I’ll never forget your sacrifice!” Gruzha bawled, wiping her face with her hands.

“Ugh,” said Aureliana, walking over to the right pinion “The things I lower myself to do . . .”

Vindriniel, despite all his self-professed heroism, watched the scene mute as a fish. All he contributed was opening and closing his mouth a few times. The pinions turned and Lyris was seized by a crushing force, nearly flinging her right at the spiked cage. Arin began a prayer, Gruzha finished drying her eyes. Hadrin just smiled and waved mockingly.

The Prophet, an appropriately old, feeble and blind man was lifted out of the prism as if it had no walls at all. He was thrown full-force at the ground and Lyris took his place, her shape hazily visible through the mesh of the torture rhombus. Arin was the first - and only - one of the six brave companions who felt the need to do something.

“Have you broken anything?” they asked, helping the Prophet up.

The man leaned on his walking stick, which seemed much sturdier than him. “My body is well,” he said “But if we do not move quickly, that will not be the case for long.”

“Come on, folks, you heard him,” Hadrin elbowed a slack-jawed Vindriniel. Evidently, he took it very personally that someone else was sacrificed for the greater good instead of him. “I for one am entirely in support of returning to Tamriel, but if any of you guys would prefer eternal torture . . .”

“How many of you are here, Vestiges?” the Prophet began asking he difficult - and slightly awkward - questions.

“Can’t you-” began Vindriniel “Oh, wait, nevermind.”

“Six,” Ku’rib declared, looking menacingly at Aureliana. The teenager didn’t spare him a glance.

“What’s a vestige?” Gruzha wondered.

“You are all Vestiges here, for your souls have been taken along with your lives,” the strange old man explained “But there may be a way for you to return to Nirn, and someday reclaim what has been taken.”

“Sign me up! I bet it involves crawling in old ruins and beating up monsters, no?” Hadrin smiled.

“Where do we need to go?” Arin asked, then realized their guide couldn’t exactly see “Uh, there’s the gate to a prison of sorts to the left, and another hallway to the right . . . would you happen to know the layout?”

“We must go to the anchor moorings, from whence Molag Bal pins his Dark Anchors into Nirn,” the Prophet declared.

“Dark what?” Gruzha wondered.

“The spiky bits that fall from the sky into dolmens,” Ku’rib explained.

“Oh okay,” Gruzha nodded “But where do we go?”

“Not the place we came from, that’s for sure,” Hadrin muttered, then charged right towards the unknown “Over here, gang! I can see-”

The unknown punched Hadrin in the face. A bone colossus stomped into the room, and Molag Bal made a dramatically appropriate announcement. Nobody bothered to listen, because the brave heroes were busy scattering to the four corners. Gruzha shot an arrow through the giant’s flaming eyesocket. This did nothing to endear her to him, and the construct proceeded to stampede towards her. Gruzha screamed like a little girl and valiantly retreated. Vindriniel, having gotten over his extremely unheroic outburst of self-preservation instinct, charged at the bone colossus. The colossus looked over its shoulder and kicked Vindriniel into the floor. Ku’rib took the opportunity to blast it with shards of dark crystal. The shards got stuck in the bony not-flesh.

After making sure the creepy old man was safely tucked in a corner, Arin threw a depleted soul gem at the colossus. The soul gem bounced harmlessly off, but Arin’s flaming whip didn’t: using one of the pinions as a platform, they had launched themself through the air and onto the construct, wrapping the burning ribbon around its neck, choking, choking . . . As the monster buckled and trashed under Arin’s weight, a wicked smile grew on their face. At last, they were in their element, the scuffle truly feeling like a fight. Nothing like taking apart one-note dremora or frail soul-shriven, oh how Arin had missed the exhilaration of a real opponent, how invigorating all the blows were . . .

. . . until the colossus wisened up and rammed its back against the wall, throwing off a fantasizing Arin. They groaned and collapsed into a heap. Vindriniel tried to take advantage of the construct’s distraction by ramming a glowstick through its, ahem, stomach. If a daedric entity made from knit-together bone even had an, ahem, stomach. Unfortunately, Vindriniel’s attempt failed, and the altmer was pancaked agains the nearest wall with a strong, bony foot. While the elf struggled not to get flattened, Aureliana lazily shot a few flaming skulls at the beast, while Gruzha peppered it with arrows. Evidently, the arrows were quite a bit more annyong than the eldritch flaming corpse pieces, because the bone colossus stampeded right past Aureliana, intent on horribly murdering the orc.

Ku’rib proceeded to save everyone with a well-placed crystal of pure evil and darkness to the neck. Prophesized savior of the world, everyone.

The construct’s head detached from the body, both falling over into a misshapen pile of bone. Gruzha immediately rushed to Arin, helping them up and making mushrooms grow on their wounds. Somehow, that caused healing. Hadrin could manage on their own, although Ku’rib took a look and recommended bed rest and no combat for at least a week.

After collecting the Prophet, the adventurers continued onwards, but their journey was short. The twisting hallways of jagged stone all lead to the anchor moorings. The moorings were a cavern with a gaping hole in the center, chains falling through it into the abyss.

“The Dark Anchor’s portal seems to be above us. I shall prepare a levitation spell,” the Prophet announced.

“Yeah, it’s kinda in the ceiling,” Hadrin agreed after nearly falling down the giant hole “What are these glowy crystals around the pit?”

“Soul gems?” Gruzha guessed.

“Skyshards - pieces of Aetherial magicka, carrying the essence of Nirn. As Nirn is being pulled into Coldharbor, fragments of Nirn remain in Coldharbor,” the visionary explained “You must absorb the power of one if you are to regain a true physical form when you return.”

“Skyshard-hunting it is,” Hadrin jumped down to the giant hole, utterly unconcerned for their safety. They poked at the smallest one in sight, and was immobilized by a glowy blue glow. “Ooo, it tingles!”

“Witchcraft,” Vindriniel muttered, but did not hesitate to use it.

The Prophet wove his spell and prayed to Akatosh.

“This one thinks a certain Tharn should be left here,” Ku’rib suggested lightly, continuing to heroically threaten a teenager with eternal damnation. But hey, this teenager deserved it!

“Says you,” said Aureliana, finishing up a skyshard in a corner “Once again, my tactical genius reigns supreme.”

“Tactical genius? Aren’t you here because you got a little burnt threatening the Worm Cult?” Hadrin raised an eyebrow.

Aureliana’s hand went to the giant unsightly boil covering most of her face and chest. “You simply cannot comprehend my master plan!”

“Which part of it would be accomplished by eternal torture?” Arin questioned.

“Fools, all of you!” Aureliana shouted and stepped right into the empty void. Entirely unconcerned for the laws of reality, she floated upwards and disappeared into the ether.

“Woo! It works!” Gruzha cheered “Thanks, Prophet!” Then she jumped as well.

“Nice of her to test it for us. See you on the other side, motherfuckers!” Hadrin remarked and backflipped off the edge.

“Will we return for Lyris?” Arin looked down with trepidation “I cannot have my freedom - not when a greater person than I remains imprisoned.”

“In time, our fates shall again intertwine,” the Prophet inclined his head “Do not forget her kindness.”

“I swear on my flame that I will not,” Arin bowed in a gesture of solemn pointlessness and pushed themself down.

“Come along, old man,” Vindriniel sniffed dismissively “And you too, cat. Still pouting that the vampire escaped your claws? Fear not, our paths shall cross . . . eventually.”

“You are supposed to be the great hero, not this one,” the khajiit remarked “Ku’rib-andiit hopes to see your return.”

-

The first thing Arin noticed upon waking was the cold. It was the bitter, all-consuming chill endemic to Skyrim, absolutely nothing like the mild winters of southern Cyrodiil. Therefore, Arin concluded they wasn’t in the same place they was before. Which was . . . fine, actually, because the last thing Arin remembered of Tamriel was being shamefully captured and even more shamefully sacrificed. How much closer to fruition did their soul bring Molag Bal’s plot? One dolmen wasn’t that much, but . . .

The second thing Arin noticed was that they was not alone. Something rustled in the corner, wood scraping against more wood - a skeever, perhaps?

No, not a skeever. Much worse: Hadrin.

“This can’t possibly be your house,” Arin whispered to them.

“They made the mistake of letting me in,” the thief shrugged, continuing to stuff their belt pouches with unearned goods “What are you going to do, stop me? I’d like to see you try, Near-Victim Of Much Frostbite.”

Arin sighed. The journey to save the world was long and fraught with hurdles . . .


End file.
